My Christmas Series for 2014 1/4
Jan. 1st, 2015 06:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleept1. Scorpion's Ralph, Toby/Happy, Walter, and Ensemble in A Miraculous Cyclone, rated PG/K+
2. Stalker's Beth in Another Christmas Alone, rated PG/K+
3. Once Upon A Time's Pongo and Archie/Ruby in A Spot of A Plan, rated G/K
4. X-Men's Wolverine/Storm in
She has never been one to receive the kind of visitors Logan claimed every year to have in this place, but still, she waits. She waits as the crowd draws thin and the night draws on. She waits as every one of her fellow team slips in and out of the bar. She waits, occasionally sipping on eggnog, for one last Christmas miracle.
She is in tune to everything in nature, and she feels his approach the very second he arrives. She feels the change in the air around them and something else to which she can not quite put a name but has felt before. She has felt it before every time some one has reached out to the X-Men from the beyond. She's never been one to receive simple visits from the dead, but she has received visits.
She remembers his stories of how he used to meet up with those who had gone before them. He always found them in this bar or, rather, he would tell her, they found him. He was visited often by the ghosts of the soldiers who had been slain in battles in which he had fought. She had felt a pang of jealousy whenever he'd mentioned meeting Mariko or Silver Fox, but he'd always been quick to remind her that they were his past while she was his future.
She had believed him, too. She had believed that they had a great deal brighter future yet ahead of them. She had believed that he could piece together what Scott Summers had torn apart, and in a way, he had given her another family. There were so many children now relying upon her to lead them down the right path, so many more than she'd ever had before. She worried constantly over rather or not she was doing a good job of that, and there wasn't a day that went by, especially now that Logan was gone, that she didn't ask Kurt for his opinion. He had, after all, served as the X-Men's conscience almost as long as she had been on the team.
He was always quick to assure her that she was doing right by their students, and tonight, he had been the one to look her in the eye and tell her to come here. She had professed her concern then that she had just been being silly, but as he had said, if she hadn't come, she would have always wondered. Now, as a gentle hand softly touches her shoulder beneath her silver dress, Ororo knows she has made the right decision for he has come at last.
"You should be out celebratin'," he remarks as he takes the stool beside hers, "'stead o' in a crummy joint like this one." He nods at Harry as he slips by, dropping a can of Logan's favorite beer down before him as though everything is normal. She wonders, for a moment, if this is normal for Harry. If Logan did indeed have so many ghosts visit him here as he's always claimed before, perhaps he wasn't the only one to see them. Harry has always been kind to their type. Perhaps the paranormal is simply another type of customer to which he's always friendly.
Logan is wearing his cowboy hat, she notes. It appears to be the same hat that he left with Jubilee years ago when he left for Canada. The rest of their team had grown accustomed to his never-forewarned hiatuses, but it had been the first time he'd left Jubilee. The girl had clung to that cowboy hat much as Ororo has come to wish she had something of his to which to cling to after losing him. But he's here tonight. Tonight, she hasn't lost him, and she determines to make the best of their situation.
She smiles at him over her glass of eggnog and feels the familiar stirring in her blood as he smiles back in his own, rough way. "There is no one else with whom I would rather spend this night, or any other, than you, Logan." Setting her own glass down onto the bar, she reaches over and touches her hand to his. She senses him grow stiff beneath her touch, but she doesn't back down as the snow drifts down outside.
"I'm gone, 'Ro."
She brightens her smile. "You're here tonight, Logan. That's what matters, my friend, and as for as Harry's being a crummy joint, did you forget this is where we shared our first dance?"
His smile is radiant to her. He lifts her hand and, holding it in his at last, kisses its back. "I could never forget that, darlin'."
Most of the customers have gone for tonight. There's only a couple of men down on their luck and with nowhere else to go, the two of them, and Harry. She hears the strands of a very familiar song begin to play and makes a mental note to thank Harry later for playing their song. "May I have this dance?" she asks.
"I've never been one to wanna tell ya 'no', but that wouldn't even matter tonight, would it?" He knows she should move on with her life, but he knows, too, what it's like to be trapped in the love of the past.
Her regal voice is lilting, on the tinge of laughter, as she confirms, "No." He feels himself begin to be picked up by a breeze, but then he squeezes her hand.
"I'm not goin' anywhere," he promises her, "'til I have to."
Her smile grows even larger although tears sparkle in her blue eyes. He's missed the sight of those eyes so much. There's never been anything bluer, not even the sky on the most perfect of days which she has granted them. Still holding to her hand, he rises underneath his own power and turns to her. He takes her arm, and neither are bothered by the difference in their height. People used to make fun of them for that, their difference in race and age, and their race. Logan would threaten them with a beating, but he'd always end up leaving them alone due to Ororo's gentle persuasion. There's no one here to chastise them tonight, however, no one here to tell them they shouldn't be together, shouldn't be seen, or that a ghost shouldn't dance with the living.
She leads him out onto the floor. He used to complain whenever she first started ordering him as a member of their team, but he has since grown to like being ordered around by her. Some of her most private orders have led to a few of their most special, and heated, times, after all. He appreciates the view of the way her lovely body glides across the floor as he lets her lead him tonight. He wishes he could follow her every night for the rest of her life. It once would've been the rest of their lives for which he would've wished, but he knows his life is over. He should let her go, make her want to get on with her life, but he can not release now any more than he could release his dead when he was the one still living after them.
His boots tonight give him the extra few inches he needs for his head to be on level with her breasts. They are full and tight underneath the silk sheathe of her gown. He remembers holding them, caressing them, suckling them, but he knows he can not do that tonight or any night, at least not for a long, long time to come. Her time is not his. Her time has not yet come, and he is determined it won't come for a very long time still.
But he can touch them. He leans his head against her right breast and strokes her tender, succulent flesh through her dress with his gray whiskers. Back and forth, back and forth, in tune to the music, they sway, and he sweeps across her. There's no one here to see, no one here to comment, no one but Harry and God, and neither of them, to Logan, matter tonight.
He can hear her breathing quicken with his movements. He hears her breath catch and her heart race and smiles. He has missed this wonderful woman so much! There are a great many things he misses about his life, from the beer and the fighting all the way up to his dearest friends who were much more like a family to him, but at the very top of his list is this amazing woman! He's missed what he can do to her as he gasps, and he's missed what she does to him. He's never felt more alive, even now in death, than he does when he's holding her in his arms.
They float up off of the floor. They both know Ororo could easily use the same air that is propelling them upward to raise him to her lips, but she chooses to keep him level with her breasts instead. A mist surrounds them, just in case there is any one watching, and they continue to sway together in the air. When their song stops, she starts it again with a simple touch of a breeze.
Their dance slows as night begins to turn into day. He lays his head on her breast and listens to her heart beating beneath his ear. He wishes his could still beat in rhythm with hers, but far too soon now, he's going to have to leave her. He closes his eyes, wishing with all his might that this Christmas Eve could last forever, but he knows time always moves on even when the spirit can not.
She clings more tightly to him as she senses the sun beginning to rise outside. For all her power over the elements, she has no control over the turning of time, and even if the sun does not shine, time will still move. Her lips quiver. She wants to beg him not to leave her, but she knows she can not. She thinks, for just one second, that perhaps this wasn't the wise idea -- maybe losing him again now will add to her pain. She knows it will, but it's worth it still to have been in his arms this night.
"Logan," she whispers.
"'Ro," his own voice is choked with tears. "Don't."
"I am sorry, my darling, but I can not succumb to your pleas this time," she answers gently. "I must tell you. You must know."
He lifts his head and lets her see the tears brimming in his eyes. "I already do, darlin'. Ain't no need to voice it."
"There is," argues Ororo. Her breezes keep him airborne and the sensation of her arms wrapped around his body as her gentle, dark hands lift his face. Her thumbs brush away the tears he allows to fall. "I love you, Logan."
""Ro . . . " He struggles not just to speak but to think clearly, as well. She thinks this is helping them, but he knows better. He was trapped in the past far too long; indeed, if he hadn't been, perhaps she would've worn his ring at least once rather than T'Challa's.
"Tell me," she whispers as the rays of the early morning sun begin to creep through her mist. "I already know, Logan. You've shown me in so many ways over the years, but I want to hear it. Just once from your lips, I want to hear the words." She cups his face, and as he looks into her wonderful, loving eyes, he knows he has no choice except to admit the truth.
His hands lift to hers; he strokes smooth, dark skin while he still can. "I love you," he says, but their time is up. He feels it in his bones or, at least, whatever he has now in this spirit form that passes for bones.
Quickly, she presses her lips to his. Tears from both slip into their passionate kiss. Her tongue dives into his mouth; his meets and twists around hers. Their bodies press together, but then his mouth passes through hers. Her eyes fly open, desperate for one last look at him. He mouths the words again, "I love you, 'Ro," but she can no longer hear them with her ears. She does hear them with her heart, though, and tries again to grab onto him as he passes through her.
His eyes are right before hers, both their visions filled with tears. He gazes desperately at her, and then he is gone. Slowly, weeping, Ororo drifts back down to the floor. Harry and the other patrons left long ago. Her mist is gone, as well as the promises of Christmas Eve. She walks out the door with her head held high but her heart aching even more than before. "I love you, Logan." She will love him forever, and she will see him, too, whenever possible for whatever brief moments in time to which they still may be able to cling. She'll never let him go, and one day, they will be together again forever.
The End , rated PG-13/T
5. Gotham's Bruce, Cat, and Alfred in
He didn't expect to see her again so soon, but on the way home from school just a few weeks after she had left him with a kiss, Bruce spotted her on the streets. "Alfred, stop the car," he ordered, and for once, the butler didn't argue with him. He pulled over to the side, and from the way he glanced in the limousine's windows, Bruce rather thought he might've seen her too. Yet, when they exited the car, he swinging his own door open and bolting through it without waiting for Alfred, Cat was nowhere to be seen.
He told himself he shouldn't be surprised, but what he was, not that she had vanished so quickly but rather that he had spotted her in the first place. Cat, as Alfred had told him numerous times, was a child of the streets. She knew how to hide. She knew how to blend into a crowd. She didn't want people seeing her, but yet, he had managed to see her. She had been with the girl she'd called Pepper and a boy even younger than the redhead, but once on the sidewalk, Bruce couldn't find a trace of any of the three of them.
He reluctantly let that sighting go, telling himself that he couldn't find her, and wouldn't be able to find her no matter how hard he tried, because she didn't want to be found. Yet, on the way home for Christmas break, he again spotted her out on the streets. "Stop the car," he ordered again, and once more, Alfred obeyed. Yet, too, once more, when he was out on the actual street, Bruce could find no other sign of the girl called Cat.
He was quite upset by that sighting, but Alfred took his disappointment to be based on another concern altogether. He questioned him as they drove home as to how he wanted to spend his holiday, but the answers Bruce gave him were short and clipped. He didn't want to talk, and eventually Alfred let him go into his own thoughts.
Selina was out there somewhere on the streets. Like himself, her parents were gone, but unlike him, she was truly alone. She didn't have an Alfred or any real friends. She didn't have anywhere to stay or to call home. Bruce often felt alone even at home, but when she had been there, he hadn't. When she had been staying with them, he had felt almost like a normal kid. There had even been a couple of times when she'd managed to make him forget about his parents.
Especially when she kissed him. Every time he thought back to that evening, he smiled. Alfred had warned him numerous times about her, and he was no dummy. He was very smart for his age and knew that she wouldn't see him as a potential romantic partner. Still, it was he whom she had chosen to kiss, and his lips tingled again at the mere memory of her mouth pressing against them. Now, in the back seat of the limo again, he presses two fingers to his lips, remembering that kiss and how she had made him feel.
"Master Bruce? Master Bruce, can you hear me?"
He blinks, his mind coming back to the present. "I'm sorry, Alfred," he apologizes sincerely. "What were you saying?"
"I was asking you where you wanted to go next, sir."
They had been making the normal stops and donations that his parents had made every Christmas, but that list, Bruce knows, is nearly completed. Besides, he has other, more pressing issues on his mind. "Just drive," he answers idly.
"To where, Master Bruce?"
"Just drive, Alfred."
Alfred glances at his image in the mirror; Bruce steadfastly meets his gaze. A smile lifts the corners of Alfred's lips. The boy is as stubborn and mysterious as his father ever was. "Very well then, sir, but when you have a destination in mind, do tell me."
"I will," he answers without hesitation and looks out the window, watching the cars, houses, and other lives, pass them by as Alfred obeys. It's nice having Alfred. It's so much better to be with some one who loves his parents almost as much as he than to be entirely by himself. Still, he's been secretly dreading this Christmas, throwing his mind into continuing his parents' plans and solving their murder rather than into the holiday all the other children at school had had their minds absorbed by weeks before they were actually released.
He wishes Christmas wasn't coming. He doesn't want to face another day without his parents, especially not Christmas Day. He's told Alfred not to buy him any presents, that he doesn't want to celebrate such a trivial day for children, but he knows he has, just as he's bought Alfred a few things and slipped them away into hiding places about which, once, only he knew. He's quite certain Cat would have no trouble finding them if she was to make a return visit to the Manor.
But she hasn't, and she won't, he knows, at least not underneath her own power. She told him to forget about her before she kissed him, and despite the kiss having happened, despite her being his first kiss, she still expects him to do so. Normally, he would try his best to adhere to a friend's wishes, but he can't forget her. She's the only thing he ever sees besides his parents being killed when he closes his eyes.
Snow drifts down, blurring his vision. Memories dance before his young eyes, both of times spent with his parents and time spent with her. He even thinks of Alfred, who's come to mean so much to him in this last few months without his mom and dad. He heard Officer Gordon tell Bullock once that Alfred was akin to a surrogate father to him, and indeed, Bruce realizes, he has. No one has sent any one to check on him. There's been no question as to rather or not he should be put out for adoption. Alfred is his guardian, but he's much more than that.
His eyes trail back to the back of Alfred's head. Perhaps he should tell him he wants to find Cat, but no, Alfred wouldn't approve. The man does have his ways of making Bruce do as he wishes, despite his supposed position as his employee. Movement on the sidewalk catches his attention, and he looks quickly in its direction. "Alfred, stop the car."
Alfred once more does as he asks, but when Bruce gets out, the only people he sees are two small children hurrying down the snow-laden pavement. The girl holds to her brother's hand and a doll; the boy is dragging a teddy bear with him that's nearly as big as he is. Bruce frowns, looks around again, and still sees nothing more.
"Shall we leave, Master Bruce?"
"Yes, Alfred," he answers quietly, slipping back into the back seat of the limo. He saw the look on Alfred's face, though, and he knows his butler is wise. He knows he's looking for Cat, and Bruce knows that, for once, Alfred will be of no help to him. He still believes that Cat is trouble and that he deserves much better. Perhaps he does, but as far as friends go, Cat, although not a nice person, is a great friend. She's saved him already more than once.
His directions as he sits behind his butler, musing silently to himself, leads them deeper into the bad side of the city. Alfred's agitation is clear, but Bruce ignores it. "Shouldn't we be heading home, Master Bruce?"
"No. Stop the car, Alfred." Again, he gets out, having seen a flash of a girl who could've been Cat, but this time, he sees no one. Puzzled, he walks down the sidewalk. Ignoring Alfred's calls, he rounds the corner into an alley way and finds a mother cat and her kittens drinking fresh milk poured into the metal lid of a garbage can that's been turned upside down.
"Master Bruce, I really must insist. This is no place for a young man like yourself to be spending Christmas Eve!"
"I will spend Christmas where and how I wish, Alfred," he snaps back, but then sighs as the felines scatter. Knowing he won't be able to touch them, he again returns to the car.
The next few times he has Alfred stop, it's not humans he finds but cats. Every one is drinking milk, but all of them flee the second they see him. Bruce is frowning deeply by the time he orders Alfred to stop once again. Her feline friends run just as fast from him as Cat herself would, but he still wants to help them.
They spend hours searching for her. He sees little kids run from him, hauling toys with them as they go. A boy runs away in a jacket which Bruce knows he could never afford. Cats flee at almost every stop. One kitten darts back, grabs a catnip mouse, and starts to run after her mother. The mother cat doubles back, grabs her kitten's ruff in her mouth, and runs twice as fast with her.
He doesn't understand why this part of the world runs from him. He's accustomed to people coming to him, wanting money or to hear about his parents again, but every one at every one of these stops he makes tonight flees as though their very lives depend upon their escape. He tries to tell them he won't hurt them, tries to offer them food and a safe place to lay their heads, but none of them pause even long enough to listen to him, none save one.
At the last place they stop, a whole group of children look up in horror as he exits the limousine. Some of the younger ones are holding cats who look even thinner than they (and Bruce can see their bones through their threadbare clothing), but all of them run. Their frightened yells, squeals, and meows drift back to the young child on the icy air.
But there is one, small girl who lifts her messy, red hair and looks him dead in the eye. "You're that kid," she speaks quietly, "the one Cat was hanging with that night."
"Yes. Have you seen Cat? It's really important, Pepper."
Pepper's eyes trail to the limousine behind Bruce. They widen slightly. "You really are Bruce Wayne, aren't you?"
"Yes, and I'm wanting to help Cat. Do you know where she is?"
"She was here earlier," Pepper admits, her words coming slowly as if she's becoming dazed. "She brought milk and cakes and meat and sodas." She lifts a can. "Do you want a soda?"
"No. How about you, Pepper? Wouldn't you like somewhere better to sleep tonight? Somewhere safer? Warmer?"
"I'm never warm," she speaks dreamily. "Never safe. I'm always alone now. The world is a mean, bad place. They killed my Daddy, you know."
"So I heard, and I'm sorry for your loss. Some one killed my parents, too."
"I know. Don't you want to find their killer? Don't you want to make them scream?" Her eyes look directly into his again, but yet, she doesn't appear to see him. She seems to be staring straight through him instead, as though she's imagining doing something that would make her very happy indeed. A sinister smile slowly curves her cold lips. "Don't you want to kill them, too?"
"N-No," he answers although he's not at all certain. He remembers Cat warning him about this girl, and he's beginning to see the reason why. The tone of her voice has made the hairs on his arms stand up, and her words are very disturbing. The thought of actually getting to kill the man who killed his parents is even more disturbing to the child as he begins to smile.
"Master Bruce, I must insist we leave this place at once. Besides, I do believe Officer Gordon has sent a text which you will find of the utmost interest."
Bruce blinks, coming out of his thoughts again. Pepper is gone, and he and Alfred are alone on the snow-covered street. "What's on the message?" he asks after they are on the road again.
"An address," replies Alfred with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.
"Go there," Bruce commands without hesitation.
Once they arrive, he insists on entering the building alone. Alfred casts nervous glances up and down the street but spies a certain, unmarked car and finally relents to his master's orders. "Very well," he says, "but be quick about it."
"I will be," Bruce promises. He darts inside the building. It is old and abandoned, but he can smell where something burned not too long ago. He follows the scent to the remains of a fire that's been extinguished. There are cats prowling the beams in the roof, an on instinct, Bruce goes further until he finds emptied cans of food and a ratty, old blanket. He smiles, knowledge curling in his gut and growing warm.
He returns to Alfred on a new mission, and much, much later that night, when everybody else is asleep or spending quiet, holiday time with their families, when no one should be out, he slips back into the building. He is careful not to make a sound as he leaves cans of cat food, two jugs of milk, a new blanket, new clothes, and most importantly of all, a certain piece of paper.
He is tempted to stay, aching to see her face light up for once in her equally young life, but he doesn't dare. If she sees him here, she'll never return, but if she sees what he's left for her, she might just stay. He might just know where to find her in the future. His eyes shine with hope as he leaves her current, makeshift home and returns to Alfred.
They drive away without a word exchanged, and she slips from the darkness to see what he's left her. She pulls on the new, leather jacket that fits just right, tries on the boots, and pulls on gloves. For the first time since Winter began, she's actually warm. She doesn't even need to wrap the blanket around her, but she does any way. Old habits die hard.
She opens the cans for her friends, saving one for herself, and only after she has fed the hungry who are with her does she look at the paper he left. She looks at it again, and again. Her eyes widen; her mouth drops open in shock. A part of her feels like crying, but she won't let herself be weak. She won't cry not because of Bruce Wayne, not because she's alone and has been hungry and cold for so long, not because of her mother who abandoned her, and not because of any other reason.
She stares at that paper for a good long time, then finally whispers to the cats who circle around her little ankles. "Merry Christmas, kitties. Looks like we actually have a place to stay." With a smile, she folds up the receipt of the building and tucks it into an inside pocket on her new jacket. She'll never forget Bruce Wayne, but not because he was the first boy she kissed who she actually wanted to kiss. She'll never forget Bruce, and it looks like he'll never forget her. She looks around her at her new home, knowing she won't be able to stay for long but already looking forward to the time she will be able to spend here, not too far from a certain Manor whose windows she still peeks in on a regular basis.
Miles away, safe, secure, and warm in that particular Manor, young Bruce Wayne looks out upon the snow-covered grounds that now belong to him. His gaze lifts from them on out into the night that stretches as far as he can see, and he smiles, imagining Cat's face when she reads that he bought that building, such as it was, so that she'll always have somewhere to stay.
"Master Bruce," Alfred calls from the doorway of his room, "are you quite certain you don't want to sit out cookies for Santa?"
"Yes," he answers without hesitation and without seeing the hopeful expression on Alfred's face vanish. Santa isn't real, he knows, but friends are. He's helped many a person, and many a cat, tonight, but most importantly of all, he's helped Cat. He didn't do it to be rewarded, but still, he knows with a smile, she'll never forget him now and maybe, just maybe, when they do meet again, she'll look upon him more kindly. Perhaps he might even earn his second kiss.
The End , rated PG-13/T
2. Stalker's Beth in Another Christmas Alone, rated PG/K+
3. Once Upon A Time's Pongo and Archie/Ruby in A Spot of A Plan, rated G/K
4. X-Men's Wolverine/Storm in
She has never been one to receive the kind of visitors Logan claimed every year to have in this place, but still, she waits. She waits as the crowd draws thin and the night draws on. She waits as every one of her fellow team slips in and out of the bar. She waits, occasionally sipping on eggnog, for one last Christmas miracle.
She is in tune to everything in nature, and she feels his approach the very second he arrives. She feels the change in the air around them and something else to which she can not quite put a name but has felt before. She has felt it before every time some one has reached out to the X-Men from the beyond. She's never been one to receive simple visits from the dead, but she has received visits.
She remembers his stories of how he used to meet up with those who had gone before them. He always found them in this bar or, rather, he would tell her, they found him. He was visited often by the ghosts of the soldiers who had been slain in battles in which he had fought. She had felt a pang of jealousy whenever he'd mentioned meeting Mariko or Silver Fox, but he'd always been quick to remind her that they were his past while she was his future.
She had believed him, too. She had believed that they had a great deal brighter future yet ahead of them. She had believed that he could piece together what Scott Summers had torn apart, and in a way, he had given her another family. There were so many children now relying upon her to lead them down the right path, so many more than she'd ever had before. She worried constantly over rather or not she was doing a good job of that, and there wasn't a day that went by, especially now that Logan was gone, that she didn't ask Kurt for his opinion. He had, after all, served as the X-Men's conscience almost as long as she had been on the team.
He was always quick to assure her that she was doing right by their students, and tonight, he had been the one to look her in the eye and tell her to come here. She had professed her concern then that she had just been being silly, but as he had said, if she hadn't come, she would have always wondered. Now, as a gentle hand softly touches her shoulder beneath her silver dress, Ororo knows she has made the right decision for he has come at last.
"You should be out celebratin'," he remarks as he takes the stool beside hers, "'stead o' in a crummy joint like this one." He nods at Harry as he slips by, dropping a can of Logan's favorite beer down before him as though everything is normal. She wonders, for a moment, if this is normal for Harry. If Logan did indeed have so many ghosts visit him here as he's always claimed before, perhaps he wasn't the only one to see them. Harry has always been kind to their type. Perhaps the paranormal is simply another type of customer to which he's always friendly.
Logan is wearing his cowboy hat, she notes. It appears to be the same hat that he left with Jubilee years ago when he left for Canada. The rest of their team had grown accustomed to his never-forewarned hiatuses, but it had been the first time he'd left Jubilee. The girl had clung to that cowboy hat much as Ororo has come to wish she had something of his to which to cling to after losing him. But he's here tonight. Tonight, she hasn't lost him, and she determines to make the best of their situation.
She smiles at him over her glass of eggnog and feels the familiar stirring in her blood as he smiles back in his own, rough way. "There is no one else with whom I would rather spend this night, or any other, than you, Logan." Setting her own glass down onto the bar, she reaches over and touches her hand to his. She senses him grow stiff beneath her touch, but she doesn't back down as the snow drifts down outside.
"I'm gone, 'Ro."
She brightens her smile. "You're here tonight, Logan. That's what matters, my friend, and as for as Harry's being a crummy joint, did you forget this is where we shared our first dance?"
His smile is radiant to her. He lifts her hand and, holding it in his at last, kisses its back. "I could never forget that, darlin'."
Most of the customers have gone for tonight. There's only a couple of men down on their luck and with nowhere else to go, the two of them, and Harry. She hears the strands of a very familiar song begin to play and makes a mental note to thank Harry later for playing their song. "May I have this dance?" she asks.
"I've never been one to wanna tell ya 'no', but that wouldn't even matter tonight, would it?" He knows she should move on with her life, but he knows, too, what it's like to be trapped in the love of the past.
Her regal voice is lilting, on the tinge of laughter, as she confirms, "No." He feels himself begin to be picked up by a breeze, but then he squeezes her hand.
"I'm not goin' anywhere," he promises her, "'til I have to."
Her smile grows even larger although tears sparkle in her blue eyes. He's missed the sight of those eyes so much. There's never been anything bluer, not even the sky on the most perfect of days which she has granted them. Still holding to her hand, he rises underneath his own power and turns to her. He takes her arm, and neither are bothered by the difference in their height. People used to make fun of them for that, their difference in race and age, and their race. Logan would threaten them with a beating, but he'd always end up leaving them alone due to Ororo's gentle persuasion. There's no one here to chastise them tonight, however, no one here to tell them they shouldn't be together, shouldn't be seen, or that a ghost shouldn't dance with the living.
She leads him out onto the floor. He used to complain whenever she first started ordering him as a member of their team, but he has since grown to like being ordered around by her. Some of her most private orders have led to a few of their most special, and heated, times, after all. He appreciates the view of the way her lovely body glides across the floor as he lets her lead him tonight. He wishes he could follow her every night for the rest of her life. It once would've been the rest of their lives for which he would've wished, but he knows his life is over. He should let her go, make her want to get on with her life, but he can not release now any more than he could release his dead when he was the one still living after them.
His boots tonight give him the extra few inches he needs for his head to be on level with her breasts. They are full and tight underneath the silk sheathe of her gown. He remembers holding them, caressing them, suckling them, but he knows he can not do that tonight or any night, at least not for a long, long time to come. Her time is not his. Her time has not yet come, and he is determined it won't come for a very long time still.
But he can touch them. He leans his head against her right breast and strokes her tender, succulent flesh through her dress with his gray whiskers. Back and forth, back and forth, in tune to the music, they sway, and he sweeps across her. There's no one here to see, no one here to comment, no one but Harry and God, and neither of them, to Logan, matter tonight.
He can hear her breathing quicken with his movements. He hears her breath catch and her heart race and smiles. He has missed this wonderful woman so much! There are a great many things he misses about his life, from the beer and the fighting all the way up to his dearest friends who were much more like a family to him, but at the very top of his list is this amazing woman! He's missed what he can do to her as he gasps, and he's missed what she does to him. He's never felt more alive, even now in death, than he does when he's holding her in his arms.
They float up off of the floor. They both know Ororo could easily use the same air that is propelling them upward to raise him to her lips, but she chooses to keep him level with her breasts instead. A mist surrounds them, just in case there is any one watching, and they continue to sway together in the air. When their song stops, she starts it again with a simple touch of a breeze.
Their dance slows as night begins to turn into day. He lays his head on her breast and listens to her heart beating beneath his ear. He wishes his could still beat in rhythm with hers, but far too soon now, he's going to have to leave her. He closes his eyes, wishing with all his might that this Christmas Eve could last forever, but he knows time always moves on even when the spirit can not.
She clings more tightly to him as she senses the sun beginning to rise outside. For all her power over the elements, she has no control over the turning of time, and even if the sun does not shine, time will still move. Her lips quiver. She wants to beg him not to leave her, but she knows she can not. She thinks, for just one second, that perhaps this wasn't the wise idea -- maybe losing him again now will add to her pain. She knows it will, but it's worth it still to have been in his arms this night.
"Logan," she whispers.
"'Ro," his own voice is choked with tears. "Don't."
"I am sorry, my darling, but I can not succumb to your pleas this time," she answers gently. "I must tell you. You must know."
He lifts his head and lets her see the tears brimming in his eyes. "I already do, darlin'. Ain't no need to voice it."
"There is," argues Ororo. Her breezes keep him airborne and the sensation of her arms wrapped around his body as her gentle, dark hands lift his face. Her thumbs brush away the tears he allows to fall. "I love you, Logan."
""Ro . . . " He struggles not just to speak but to think clearly, as well. She thinks this is helping them, but he knows better. He was trapped in the past far too long; indeed, if he hadn't been, perhaps she would've worn his ring at least once rather than T'Challa's.
"Tell me," she whispers as the rays of the early morning sun begin to creep through her mist. "I already know, Logan. You've shown me in so many ways over the years, but I want to hear it. Just once from your lips, I want to hear the words." She cups his face, and as he looks into her wonderful, loving eyes, he knows he has no choice except to admit the truth.
His hands lift to hers; he strokes smooth, dark skin while he still can. "I love you," he says, but their time is up. He feels it in his bones or, at least, whatever he has now in this spirit form that passes for bones.
Quickly, she presses her lips to his. Tears from both slip into their passionate kiss. Her tongue dives into his mouth; his meets and twists around hers. Their bodies press together, but then his mouth passes through hers. Her eyes fly open, desperate for one last look at him. He mouths the words again, "I love you, 'Ro," but she can no longer hear them with her ears. She does hear them with her heart, though, and tries again to grab onto him as he passes through her.
His eyes are right before hers, both their visions filled with tears. He gazes desperately at her, and then he is gone. Slowly, weeping, Ororo drifts back down to the floor. Harry and the other patrons left long ago. Her mist is gone, as well as the promises of Christmas Eve. She walks out the door with her head held high but her heart aching even more than before. "I love you, Logan." She will love him forever, and she will see him, too, whenever possible for whatever brief moments in time to which they still may be able to cling. She'll never let him go, and one day, they will be together again forever.
The End , rated PG-13/T
5. Gotham's Bruce, Cat, and Alfred in
He didn't expect to see her again so soon, but on the way home from school just a few weeks after she had left him with a kiss, Bruce spotted her on the streets. "Alfred, stop the car," he ordered, and for once, the butler didn't argue with him. He pulled over to the side, and from the way he glanced in the limousine's windows, Bruce rather thought he might've seen her too. Yet, when they exited the car, he swinging his own door open and bolting through it without waiting for Alfred, Cat was nowhere to be seen.
He told himself he shouldn't be surprised, but what he was, not that she had vanished so quickly but rather that he had spotted her in the first place. Cat, as Alfred had told him numerous times, was a child of the streets. She knew how to hide. She knew how to blend into a crowd. She didn't want people seeing her, but yet, he had managed to see her. She had been with the girl she'd called Pepper and a boy even younger than the redhead, but once on the sidewalk, Bruce couldn't find a trace of any of the three of them.
He reluctantly let that sighting go, telling himself that he couldn't find her, and wouldn't be able to find her no matter how hard he tried, because she didn't want to be found. Yet, on the way home for Christmas break, he again spotted her out on the streets. "Stop the car," he ordered again, and once more, Alfred obeyed. Yet, too, once more, when he was out on the actual street, Bruce could find no other sign of the girl called Cat.
He was quite upset by that sighting, but Alfred took his disappointment to be based on another concern altogether. He questioned him as they drove home as to how he wanted to spend his holiday, but the answers Bruce gave him were short and clipped. He didn't want to talk, and eventually Alfred let him go into his own thoughts.
Selina was out there somewhere on the streets. Like himself, her parents were gone, but unlike him, she was truly alone. She didn't have an Alfred or any real friends. She didn't have anywhere to stay or to call home. Bruce often felt alone even at home, but when she had been there, he hadn't. When she had been staying with them, he had felt almost like a normal kid. There had even been a couple of times when she'd managed to make him forget about his parents.
Especially when she kissed him. Every time he thought back to that evening, he smiled. Alfred had warned him numerous times about her, and he was no dummy. He was very smart for his age and knew that she wouldn't see him as a potential romantic partner. Still, it was he whom she had chosen to kiss, and his lips tingled again at the mere memory of her mouth pressing against them. Now, in the back seat of the limo again, he presses two fingers to his lips, remembering that kiss and how she had made him feel.
"Master Bruce? Master Bruce, can you hear me?"
He blinks, his mind coming back to the present. "I'm sorry, Alfred," he apologizes sincerely. "What were you saying?"
"I was asking you where you wanted to go next, sir."
They had been making the normal stops and donations that his parents had made every Christmas, but that list, Bruce knows, is nearly completed. Besides, he has other, more pressing issues on his mind. "Just drive," he answers idly.
"To where, Master Bruce?"
"Just drive, Alfred."
Alfred glances at his image in the mirror; Bruce steadfastly meets his gaze. A smile lifts the corners of Alfred's lips. The boy is as stubborn and mysterious as his father ever was. "Very well then, sir, but when you have a destination in mind, do tell me."
"I will," he answers without hesitation and looks out the window, watching the cars, houses, and other lives, pass them by as Alfred obeys. It's nice having Alfred. It's so much better to be with some one who loves his parents almost as much as he than to be entirely by himself. Still, he's been secretly dreading this Christmas, throwing his mind into continuing his parents' plans and solving their murder rather than into the holiday all the other children at school had had their minds absorbed by weeks before they were actually released.
He wishes Christmas wasn't coming. He doesn't want to face another day without his parents, especially not Christmas Day. He's told Alfred not to buy him any presents, that he doesn't want to celebrate such a trivial day for children, but he knows he has, just as he's bought Alfred a few things and slipped them away into hiding places about which, once, only he knew. He's quite certain Cat would have no trouble finding them if she was to make a return visit to the Manor.
But she hasn't, and she won't, he knows, at least not underneath her own power. She told him to forget about her before she kissed him, and despite the kiss having happened, despite her being his first kiss, she still expects him to do so. Normally, he would try his best to adhere to a friend's wishes, but he can't forget her. She's the only thing he ever sees besides his parents being killed when he closes his eyes.
Snow drifts down, blurring his vision. Memories dance before his young eyes, both of times spent with his parents and time spent with her. He even thinks of Alfred, who's come to mean so much to him in this last few months without his mom and dad. He heard Officer Gordon tell Bullock once that Alfred was akin to a surrogate father to him, and indeed, Bruce realizes, he has. No one has sent any one to check on him. There's been no question as to rather or not he should be put out for adoption. Alfred is his guardian, but he's much more than that.
His eyes trail back to the back of Alfred's head. Perhaps he should tell him he wants to find Cat, but no, Alfred wouldn't approve. The man does have his ways of making Bruce do as he wishes, despite his supposed position as his employee. Movement on the sidewalk catches his attention, and he looks quickly in its direction. "Alfred, stop the car."
Alfred once more does as he asks, but when Bruce gets out, the only people he sees are two small children hurrying down the snow-laden pavement. The girl holds to her brother's hand and a doll; the boy is dragging a teddy bear with him that's nearly as big as he is. Bruce frowns, looks around again, and still sees nothing more.
"Shall we leave, Master Bruce?"
"Yes, Alfred," he answers quietly, slipping back into the back seat of the limo. He saw the look on Alfred's face, though, and he knows his butler is wise. He knows he's looking for Cat, and Bruce knows that, for once, Alfred will be of no help to him. He still believes that Cat is trouble and that he deserves much better. Perhaps he does, but as far as friends go, Cat, although not a nice person, is a great friend. She's saved him already more than once.
His directions as he sits behind his butler, musing silently to himself, leads them deeper into the bad side of the city. Alfred's agitation is clear, but Bruce ignores it. "Shouldn't we be heading home, Master Bruce?"
"No. Stop the car, Alfred." Again, he gets out, having seen a flash of a girl who could've been Cat, but this time, he sees no one. Puzzled, he walks down the sidewalk. Ignoring Alfred's calls, he rounds the corner into an alley way and finds a mother cat and her kittens drinking fresh milk poured into the metal lid of a garbage can that's been turned upside down.
"Master Bruce, I really must insist. This is no place for a young man like yourself to be spending Christmas Eve!"
"I will spend Christmas where and how I wish, Alfred," he snaps back, but then sighs as the felines scatter. Knowing he won't be able to touch them, he again returns to the car.
The next few times he has Alfred stop, it's not humans he finds but cats. Every one is drinking milk, but all of them flee the second they see him. Bruce is frowning deeply by the time he orders Alfred to stop once again. Her feline friends run just as fast from him as Cat herself would, but he still wants to help them.
They spend hours searching for her. He sees little kids run from him, hauling toys with them as they go. A boy runs away in a jacket which Bruce knows he could never afford. Cats flee at almost every stop. One kitten darts back, grabs a catnip mouse, and starts to run after her mother. The mother cat doubles back, grabs her kitten's ruff in her mouth, and runs twice as fast with her.
He doesn't understand why this part of the world runs from him. He's accustomed to people coming to him, wanting money or to hear about his parents again, but every one at every one of these stops he makes tonight flees as though their very lives depend upon their escape. He tries to tell them he won't hurt them, tries to offer them food and a safe place to lay their heads, but none of them pause even long enough to listen to him, none save one.
At the last place they stop, a whole group of children look up in horror as he exits the limousine. Some of the younger ones are holding cats who look even thinner than they (and Bruce can see their bones through their threadbare clothing), but all of them run. Their frightened yells, squeals, and meows drift back to the young child on the icy air.
But there is one, small girl who lifts her messy, red hair and looks him dead in the eye. "You're that kid," she speaks quietly, "the one Cat was hanging with that night."
"Yes. Have you seen Cat? It's really important, Pepper."
Pepper's eyes trail to the limousine behind Bruce. They widen slightly. "You really are Bruce Wayne, aren't you?"
"Yes, and I'm wanting to help Cat. Do you know where she is?"
"She was here earlier," Pepper admits, her words coming slowly as if she's becoming dazed. "She brought milk and cakes and meat and sodas." She lifts a can. "Do you want a soda?"
"No. How about you, Pepper? Wouldn't you like somewhere better to sleep tonight? Somewhere safer? Warmer?"
"I'm never warm," she speaks dreamily. "Never safe. I'm always alone now. The world is a mean, bad place. They killed my Daddy, you know."
"So I heard, and I'm sorry for your loss. Some one killed my parents, too."
"I know. Don't you want to find their killer? Don't you want to make them scream?" Her eyes look directly into his again, but yet, she doesn't appear to see him. She seems to be staring straight through him instead, as though she's imagining doing something that would make her very happy indeed. A sinister smile slowly curves her cold lips. "Don't you want to kill them, too?"
"N-No," he answers although he's not at all certain. He remembers Cat warning him about this girl, and he's beginning to see the reason why. The tone of her voice has made the hairs on his arms stand up, and her words are very disturbing. The thought of actually getting to kill the man who killed his parents is even more disturbing to the child as he begins to smile.
"Master Bruce, I must insist we leave this place at once. Besides, I do believe Officer Gordon has sent a text which you will find of the utmost interest."
Bruce blinks, coming out of his thoughts again. Pepper is gone, and he and Alfred are alone on the snow-covered street. "What's on the message?" he asks after they are on the road again.
"An address," replies Alfred with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.
"Go there," Bruce commands without hesitation.
Once they arrive, he insists on entering the building alone. Alfred casts nervous glances up and down the street but spies a certain, unmarked car and finally relents to his master's orders. "Very well," he says, "but be quick about it."
"I will be," Bruce promises. He darts inside the building. It is old and abandoned, but he can smell where something burned not too long ago. He follows the scent to the remains of a fire that's been extinguished. There are cats prowling the beams in the roof, an on instinct, Bruce goes further until he finds emptied cans of food and a ratty, old blanket. He smiles, knowledge curling in his gut and growing warm.
He returns to Alfred on a new mission, and much, much later that night, when everybody else is asleep or spending quiet, holiday time with their families, when no one should be out, he slips back into the building. He is careful not to make a sound as he leaves cans of cat food, two jugs of milk, a new blanket, new clothes, and most importantly of all, a certain piece of paper.
He is tempted to stay, aching to see her face light up for once in her equally young life, but he doesn't dare. If she sees him here, she'll never return, but if she sees what he's left for her, she might just stay. He might just know where to find her in the future. His eyes shine with hope as he leaves her current, makeshift home and returns to Alfred.
They drive away without a word exchanged, and she slips from the darkness to see what he's left her. She pulls on the new, leather jacket that fits just right, tries on the boots, and pulls on gloves. For the first time since Winter began, she's actually warm. She doesn't even need to wrap the blanket around her, but she does any way. Old habits die hard.
She opens the cans for her friends, saving one for herself, and only after she has fed the hungry who are with her does she look at the paper he left. She looks at it again, and again. Her eyes widen; her mouth drops open in shock. A part of her feels like crying, but she won't let herself be weak. She won't cry not because of Bruce Wayne, not because she's alone and has been hungry and cold for so long, not because of her mother who abandoned her, and not because of any other reason.
She stares at that paper for a good long time, then finally whispers to the cats who circle around her little ankles. "Merry Christmas, kitties. Looks like we actually have a place to stay." With a smile, she folds up the receipt of the building and tucks it into an inside pocket on her new jacket. She'll never forget Bruce Wayne, but not because he was the first boy she kissed who she actually wanted to kiss. She'll never forget Bruce, and it looks like he'll never forget her. She looks around her at her new home, knowing she won't be able to stay for long but already looking forward to the time she will be able to spend here, not too far from a certain Manor whose windows she still peeks in on a regular basis.
Miles away, safe, secure, and warm in that particular Manor, young Bruce Wayne looks out upon the snow-covered grounds that now belong to him. His gaze lifts from them on out into the night that stretches as far as he can see, and he smiles, imagining Cat's face when she reads that he bought that building, such as it was, so that she'll always have somewhere to stay.
"Master Bruce," Alfred calls from the doorway of his room, "are you quite certain you don't want to sit out cookies for Santa?"
"Yes," he answers without hesitation and without seeing the hopeful expression on Alfred's face vanish. Santa isn't real, he knows, but friends are. He's helped many a person, and many a cat, tonight, but most importantly of all, he's helped Cat. He didn't do it to be rewarded, but still, he knows with a smile, she'll never forget him now and maybe, just maybe, when they do meet again, she'll look upon him more kindly. Perhaps he might even earn his second kiss.
The End , rated PG-13/T
